"It's a healthy activity," Polgara said. She looked meaningfully at the mug in Belgarath's hand. “And probably much better for him than the amusements of some others I could name."
"What next, old friend?" Silk asked Belgarath.
"Let's sit tight for a while and keep our eyes and ears open. I've got a nagging sort of feeling that something important's going to happen here."
That afternoon a faint breeze began to stir the fog that had plagued them for the past week or so. When evening approached, the sky had blown clear except for a heavy cloud bank off toward the west, dyed a deep scarlet by the setting sun.
Sadi had spent the day with Vard; when he returned, his expression was frustrated.
"Were you able to get anything out of him?" Silk asked.
"Nothing that I could make any sense out of," the eunuch replied. "I think the grip these people have on reality is rather tenuous. The only thing that seems to interest them is some obscure thing they call the task. Vard wouldn't tell me exactly what this task is, but they seem to have been gathering information about it since the beginning of time."
As twilight began to settle over the Isle, Durnik, with Eriond at his side, returned with his fishing pole across his shoulder and a frustrated look on his face.
"Where's Toth?" Garion asked him.
"He said that he had something to attend to," Durnik replied, carefully examining his tackle. "I think that maybe I need a smaller hook," he mused.
As Polgara and Velvet began preparing supper, Silk looked over at Garion. "Why don't we go stretch our legs?" he suggested.
"You mean right now?"
"I'm a little restless." The weasel-faced man rose from his chair. "Come along," he said. "If you sit in that chair much longer, you're going to put down roots."
Puzzled, Garion followed his friend outside. "What was that all about?" he asked.
"I want to find out what Toth's up to and I don't want Liselle tagging along."
"I thought you liked her."
"I do, but I'm getting a little tired of having her looking over my shoulder every place I go." He stopped. "Where are they going?" he said, pointing at a line of torches strung out across the meadow lying between the village and the edge of the forest.
"We could follow them and find out," Garion suggested.
"Right. Let's go."
Vard led the line of torch-bearing villagers toward the dark forest at the upper end of the meadow, and Toth, towering above all the rest, strode beside him. Garion and Silk, bent low to the tall grass, parallelled their course, but remained some distance away.
As the torchlit file of villagers approached the edge of the woods, several dim figures emerged from the shadows under the trees and stood waiting. "Can you make them out at all?" Garion whispered.
Silk shook his head. "Too far," he murmured, "and there's not enough light. We're going to have to get closer." He dropped down onto his stomach and began to worm his way through the grass.
The meadow was still wet from the days of dense fog; by the time Garion and Silk reached the protecting shadows at the edge of the trees, they were both soaking wet.
"I'm not enjoying this much, Silk," Garion whispered somewhat crossly.
"I don't think you'll melt," Silk whispered back. Then he raised his head and peered out through the trees. "Are those people blindfolded?" he asked.
"It sort of looks that way," Garion replied.
"That would mean that they're seers then, wouldn't it? We didn't see any of them in the village, so maybe they live somewhere in these woods. Let's see if we can get a little closer. All of this is definitely stirring up my curiosity."
The villagers, still carrying their torches, moved into the damp forest for several hundred yards and finally stopped in a large clearing. Around the edge of that clearing stood a series of roughly squared-off blocks of stone, each of them about, twice the height of a tail man. The villagers spaced themselves among those stone blocks, forming a torchlit circle, and the blindfolded seers, perhaps a dozen or so of them, gathered in the center and joined hands to form another circle. Standing immediately behind each of the seers was a large, muscular man—their guides and protectors, Garion surmised. In the very center, enclosed within that inner ring of seers, stood the silver-haired Vard and the giant Toth.
Garion and Silk crept closer.
The only sound in the clearing was the guttering of torches; then, very quietly at first, but with growing strength, the people in the circle began to sing. In many ways, their song was similar to the discordant hymn of the Ulgos, yet there were subtle differences. Though he was not schooled in musicology or harmony, Garion perceived that this hymn was older and perhaps more pure than the one which had rung through the caves of Ulgo for five millennia. In a sudden flash of insight, he also understood how endless centuries of confusing echos had gradually corrupted the Ulgos' song. This hymn, moreover, was not raised to UL, but to a God unknown, and it was a plea to that unnamed God to manifest himself and to come forth to guide and protect the Dais, even as UL guided and protected the Ulgos.
Then he heard or felt another sound joining with that unbelievably ancient hymn. A peculiar sighing within his mind signalled that these people, gathered in their strange circles, were bringing their combined wills to bear in a mystic accompaniment to the song their voices raised to the starry sky.
There was a shimmering in the air in the very center of the clearing, and the glowing form of Cyradis appeared, robed and cowled in white linen and with her eyes covered by a strip of cloth.
"Where did she come from?" Silk breathed.
"She's not really there," Garion whispered. "It's a projection. Listen."
"Welcome, Holy Seeress," Vard greeted the glowing image. "We are grateful that thou hast responded to our summons."
"Thy gratitude is unnecessary, Vard," the clear voice of the blindfolded girl replied. "I respond out of the duty imposed upon me by my task. Have the seekers arrived, then?"
"They have, Holy Cyradis," Vard answered, "and the one called Belgarion hath found that which he sought here."
"The quest of the Child of Light hath but only begun," the image stated. "The Child of Dark hath reached the coast of far-off Mallorea and even now doth journey toward the House of Torak at Ashaba. The time hath come for the Eternal man to open the Book of Ages."
Vard's face grew troubled. "Is that wise, Cyradis?" he asked. "Can even Ancient Belgarath be trusted with what he may find in that volume? His entire life hath been devoted to but one of the two spirits which control all things."
"It must be so, Vard, else the meeting of the Child of Light and the Child of Dark will not come to pass at the appointed time, and our task will remain uncompleted." She sighed. "The time draws nigh," she told them. "That for which we have waited since the beginning of the First Age fast approaches, and all must be accomplished ere the moment in which I must perform that task which hath lain upon us throughout the weary centuries. Give the Book of Ages to Eternal Belgarath that he may lead the Child of Light to the place which is no more—where all will be decided forever." Then she turned to the towering mute standing impassively beside the white-robed Vard. "My heart is empty without thee," she told him in a voice very near to tears. "My steps falter, and I am alone. I pray thee, my dear companion, make haste in the completion of thy task, for I am made desolate by thine absence."
Quite clearly in the flickering torchlight Garion could see the tears in Toth's eyes and the anguish on his face. The giant reached out toward the glowing image, then let his hand fall helplessly.
Cyradis also raised her hand, it seemed almost involuntarily.
Then she vanished.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Are you sure she said Ashaba?" Belgarath asked intently.
"I heard her, too, Grandfather," Garion confirmed what Silk had just reported. "She said that the Child of Dark had reached Mallorea and was journeying to the House of Torak at Ashaba."
"But there's nothin
g there," Belgarath objected. "Beldin and I ransacked that place right after Vo Mimbre." He began to pace up and down, scowling darkly. "What could Zandramas possibly want there? It's just an empty house."
"Maybe you can find some answers in the Book of Ages," Silk suggested.
Belgarath stopped and stared at him.
"Oh, I guess we hadn't got to that part yet," the little man said. "Cyradis told Vard that he was supposed to give you the book. He didn't like it very much, but she insisted."
Belgarath's hands began to tremble, and he controlled himself with an obvious effort.
"Is it important?" Silk asked curiously.
"So that's what this has all been about!" the old man burst out. "I knew there was a reason for bringing us here."
"What's the Book of Ages, Belgarath?" Ce'Nedra asked him.
"It's a part of The Mallorean Gospels—the holy book of the Seers at Kell. It looks as if we were led here specifically for the purpose of putting that book into my hands."
"This is all just a little obscure for me, old friend," Silk said, shivering. "Let's go get cleaned up, Garion. I'm soaked all the way through."
"How did you two get so wet?" Velvet asked.
"We were crawling around in the grass."
"That would account for it, I suppose."
"Do you really have to do that, Liselle?"
"Do what?"
"Never mind. Come on, Garion."
"What is it about her that irritates you so much?" Garion asked as the two of them went down the hall toward the back of the house.
"I'm not really sure," Silk replied. "I get the feeling that she's laughing at me all the time—and that she's got something on her mind that she isn't telling me. For some reason, she makes me very nervous."
After they had dried themselves and changed into clean clothing, they returned to the warm, firelit main room of the house to find that Toth had returned. He sat impassively on a bench near the door, with his huge hands folded on his knees. All traces of the anguish Garion had seen on his face in the clearing were gone now, and his expression was as enigmatic as ever.
Belgarath sat beside the fire holding a large leather-bound book tilted to catch the light, his eyes poring over it intently.
"Is that the book?" Silk asked.
"Yes," Polgara replied. "Toth brought it."
"I hope that it says something to make this trip worth all the trouble."
As Garion, Silk, and Toth ate, Belgarath continued to read, turning the crackling pages of the Book of Ages impatiently.
"Listen to this," he said. He cleared his throat and began to read aloud: '"Know ye, oh my people, that all adown the endless avenues of time hath division marred all that is—for there is division at the very heart of creation. But the stars and the spirits and the voices within the rocks speak of the day when the division will end and all will be made one again, for creation itself knows that the day will come. And two spirits contend with each other at the very center of time, and these spirits are the two sides of that which hath divided creation. Now the day must come when we must choose between them, and the choice we must make is the choice between absolute good and absolute evil, and that which we choose—good or evil—will prevail until the end of days. But how may we know which is good and which is evil?
" 'Behold also this truth; the rocks of the world and of all other worlds murmur continually of the two stones which lie at the center of the division. Once these stones were one, and they stood at the very center of all of creation, but, like all else, they were divided, and in the instant of division were they rent apart with a force that destroyed whole suns. And where these stones are found together, there surely will be the last confrontation between the two spirits. Now the day will come when all division will end and all will be made as one again—except that the division between the two stones is so great that they can never be rejoined. And in the day when the division ends shall one of the stones cease forever to exist, and in that day also shall one of the spirits forever vanish.'"
"Are they trying to say that the Orb is only half of this original stone?" Garion asked incredulously.
"And the other half would be the Sardion," Belgarath agreed. "That would explain a great deal."
"I didn't know there was any connection between the two."
"Neither did I, but it does sort of fit together, doesn't it? Everything about this whole business has come in pairs from the very beginning—two Prophecies, two fates, a Child of Light and a Child of Dark—it only stands to reason that there'd have to be two stones, doesn't it?"
"And the Sardion would have the same power as the Orb," Polgara added gravely.
Belgarath nodded. "In the hands of the Child of Dark, it could do just about anything that Garion can do with the Orb—and we haven't even tested the limits of that yet."
"It gives us just a little more incentive to keep Zandramas from reaching the Sardion, doesn't it?" Silk said.
"I already have all the incentive in the world," Ce'Nedra said sadly.
Garion rose early the next morning. When he came out of the room he shared with Ce'Nedra, he found Belgarath seated at the table in the main room with the Book of Ages lying before him in the light of a guttering candle.
"Didn't you go to bed, Grandfather?"
"What? Oh—no. I wanted to read this all the way through without any interruptions."
"Did you find anything helpful?"
"A great deal, Garion. A very great deal. Now I know what Cyradis is doing."
"Is she really involved in this?"
"She believes that she is." He closed the book and leaned back, staring thoughtfully at the far wall. "You see, these people, and the ones at Kell in Dalasia, believe that it's their task to choose between the two Prophecies—the two forces that have divided the universe—and they believe that it's their choice that's going to settle the matter once and for all."
"A choice? That's all? You mean that all they have to do is pick one or the other, and that's the end of it?"
"Roughly, yes. They believe that the choice has to be made during one of the meetings of the Child of Light and the Child of Dark—and both stones, the Orb and the Sardion, have to be present. Down through history, the task of making the choice has always been laid on just one of the seers. At every meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark, that particular seer has been present. I expect that there was one lurking about somewhere at Cthol Mishrak when you met Torak. At any rate, the task has finally fallen to Cyradis. She knows where the Sardion is and she knows when this meeting is going to take place. She'll be there. If all the conditions have been met, she'll choose."
Garion sat down in a chair by the dying fire. "You don't actually believe all that, do you?"
"I don't know, Garion. We've spent our entire lives living out the pronouncements of the Prophecy, and it's gone to a great deal of trouble to get me here and put this book into my hands. I may not entirely believe all this mysticism, but I'm certainly not going to ignore it."
"Did it say anything at all about Geran? What's his part in all this?"
"I'm not sure. It could be as a sacrifice—the way Agachak believes. Or, it's possible that Zandramas abducted him just to force you to come after her and bring the Orb with you. Nothing is ever going to be settled until the Orb and the Sardion are brought together in the same place."
"The place which is no more," Garion added sourly.
Belgarath grunted. "There's something about that phrase that keeps nagging at me," he said. "Sometimes I can almost put my finger on it, but it keeps slipping away from me. I've seen it or heard it before, but I can't seem to remember where."
Polgara came into the room. "You're both up early," she said.
"Garion is," Belgarath replied. "I'm up late."
"Did you stay up all night, father?"
"It seems that way. I think that this was what I was waiting for." He laid his hand on the book in front of him. "As soon as the others get up, let
's pack and get ready to leave. It's time for us to move on."
There was a light tap on the outer door. Garion rose, crossed the room, and opened it.
Vard stood outside in the pale gray light of the dawning day. "There's something I need to tell you," he said.
"Come in." Garion held the door open for him.
"Good morning, Vard," Belgarath greeted the white-robed man. "I didn't get the chance to thank you for this book."
"You must thank Cyradis for that. We gave it to you at her instruction. I think you and your friends should leave. There are soldiers coming."
"Malloreans?"
Vard nodded. "There's a column moving out from Rak Verkat. They'll probably reach our village before noon."
"Can you give us a ship of any kind?'1 Belgarath asked him. "We need to get to Mallorea."
"That wouldn't be wise just now. There are also Mallorean ships patrolling the coast."
"Do you think they're searching for us?" Polgara asked.
"It's possible, Lady Polgara," Vard admitted, "but the commander at Rak Verkat has ordered these sweeps through the countryside before—usually to round up any Murgos who still might be hidden on the Isle. They stir around for a few days and then return to their garrison in Rak Verkat. If this present excursion is merely one of those periodic searches, the troops won't be very thorough and they won't be in this vicinity for long. As soon as they're gone, you can come back here, and we'll provide you with a ship."
"Just how extensive is that forest out there?" Belgarath asked him.
"It's quite large, Ancient One."
"Good. Malloreans aren't comfortable in forests. Once we get back into the trees, it shouldn't be much of a problem to slip around them."
"You will need to avoid the hermit who dwells in the forest, however."
"The hermit?"
"A poor deranged fellow. He's not really an evil person, but he's mischievous and he likes to play tricks on travellers."
"We'll keep that in mind," Belgarath said. "Garion, go wake the others. Let's get ready to leave."
By the time everything was ready for their departure, the sun had risen over the low range of hills to the east. Sadi looked out the door at the bright sunlight streaming over the village and sparkling on the waves in the harbor. "Where's the fog when you need it?" he asked of no one in particular.
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